


Seeing Eye To Eye

by TheFightingBull



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:50:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5236670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFightingBull/pseuds/TheFightingBull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite all rational thought, Jason Todd is staying at Wayne Manor while he recovers from an injury. Fluff, a bit of drama and angst in the beginning and some great brotherly battles will keep Bruce on his toes. Can Jason and Bruce ever get over the past? Will Dick ever stop smiling? When will Tim lose his virginity? How long will it take before someone notices the amount of animals Damian is smuggling into the manor? No slash as of yet. Rate mature for Jason's potty mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Break Through

He slouched in the recliner, his back laying against the seat cushion, his large brawny frame feeling a little tight between the arms of the leather seat. His head was forced forward by the back of the chair, his chin resting on his chest as he flipped channels, dark blue eyes blankly watching for something of interest.

“You have been here little more than four days and you are already bored?” Tim asked incredulously as he walked into the theater room.

His muscular shoulders lifted and then dropped as he flipped the channel again. “Eh.”

“While I am glad that you are trying to get to know our family and become part of the fold, I have to admit I wasn't expecting this.” Tim frowned as he took a seat in a second recliner. “I mean, you were potentially the most dangerous and clever villain that the bat family has ever known and yet here you are being a couch potato.”

Barely turning to look at his 'little brother', Jason's eyes moved to him. He looked as though he was about to say something but instead aimed the remote at him and hit the mute button.

“Ha, ha.” Tim rolled his eyes.

Jason hid his smirk well as he set the remote down and flipped the replacement off. He ignored the lecture on his maturity as he went back to the changing channels. He was so bored he was contemplating throwing the controller at Timothy's head, but Alfred wasn't far from the theater room and he knew that old man was not to be tangled with in his own home. Still...

Just as he finally decided that he wanted to see the plastic remote bounce off of the replacement's head a large white feline jumped onto his chest. It mewed up at him and then pressed it's head against his jaw, clearly wanting the man's attention. Jason grabbed hold of the animal by the scruff and without taking his eyes off the the television gently set the cat on the floor.

“Are you really watching this?” Tim frowned as he realized The Red Hood had stopped on some show about bride's trying to find their dream wedding dress.

“She has nice tits.” Jason shrugged.

“You haven't spoken in nearly eight hours and your first words of the day are 'she has nice tits?' What is wrong with you?”

“I'm horny?” He guessed.

Tim blushed and walked away angrily. It was amazing how easy it was to rile the kid up without doing a damned thing to him. Jason would remember that for future reference. Truth was, he was having a lazy day combined with trying to get over some emotional trauma. Here he was sitting in Wayne Manor as if he belonged there while his right foot healed from a nasty fracture that left him out of work and off of his patrol. He and dear old 'Dad' had yet to utter one syllable to the other; only narrowed eyes and grunts of acknowledgment had been passed between the two. All he really wanted to do was kick Bruce's ass, but with the broken foot and all...

“Still lazing about in our home, Todd?” Damian snarled as he walked into the room.

“I am about to start a movie, how about Pride and Prejudice, wanna watch it with me?” Jason smiled, sounding and appearing sincere.

Damian glared, his gray blue eyes searching for any signs of trickery, not that he would ever watch something like that. “Please, I am not about to watch some brainless romantic drivel with the likes of you. Grayson may be the type to sit and watch movies with you or Drake, but I have much better things to do with my time.”

Jason finally pulled himself up out of the recliner and carefully hobbled over to the middle of the theater room. He sat carefully on the wooden floor boards and after knocking here and there, Damian's attention was pulled back to Todd by the sound of a hollowed knock. Within a few minutes Jason had carefully removed the board and pulled up an old black metal DVD case with a large silver cross and the words Boondock Saints.

“What is that, Todd?” Damian didn't ask, he demanded.

“A movie, Demon Brat. It shares a lot of my ideals.” Jason placed the board back and limped over to the DVD player and started his movie before getting himself back on the couch and reclining this time. “You definitely should leave the room. The movie is rated R and Dickie-Bird and B will have a coronary if they find you watching this with me.”

“I am not a baby, despite what so many of you seem to think.” Damian growled as he sat beside his smirking older brother.

“Whatever, just realize, it's got a lot of a adult themes.” Jason warned, knowing full well the boy would stay just to spite him, which was what he really wanted. Bruce was going to go ape shit and being an injured prisoner of war, Alfred wasn't going to let him lay a single finger on him.

* * *

 

Dick and Bruce arrived at the manor within a few minutes of each other. They had been making sure to do this ever since Jason had returned. Safety in numbers or something to that effect. They had both put in a hard day's work and were aching for a relaxing evening and a home cooked meal. Both men immediately went to their rooms, Bruce changing out of his suit while Dick changed out of his GCPD uniform.

As Bruce came down the stairs he was surprised to see Tim in the kitchen reading quietly. It wasn't Tim, or the book that surprised him but the lack of a certain pestering little brother that startled him. Every evening without fail his two youngest sons were usually locked in some sort of mortal combat as they shouted and insulted one another.

“Alright, what have you done to him, Tim?” Bruce asked, wondering if he should be fearing the worst.

“To who?” Tim asked as he looked up and then as comprehension lit up his face he smiled. “Nothing, Damian is watching a movie with Jason.”

That was definitely concerning; Bruce decided as he moved quickly to his theater room. He entered the doorway to see both boys munching on popcorn, Jason laughing happily while Damian did his best to hide the smile that wanted to form across his young face. Bruce turned his own eyes to the television and frowned as he immediately recognized his second son's favorite movie.

**“Fuckin'-What the fuckin'...Fuck. Who the fuck fucked this fucking....How did you two fucking fucks....FUCK!” The voice of a character screamed away on the movie.**

**“Well that clearly illustrates the diversity of the word.” Another character remarked.**

“Jason Peter Todd-Wayne, how many times have I told you that you are not to watch this movie under my roof?” Bruce growled angrily.

Two sets of blue eyes focused on their father, neither seemed very concerned or intimidated by the man's growl or leer. Jason and Damian stared for a only a moment before they turned their attention back to the movie.

Bruce grabbed the remote with speed that would make The Flash jealous and turned off the television. “I am not playing, Jason. How dare you bring this garbage into my home and allow your youngest brother to watch it? We do NOT kill in this family, we do NOT gun criminals down. It's not funny, it's not a game and it's not going to be tolerated!”

Jason was on his feet, ignoring the pain that surged through his cast, as he stood toe to toe with his father. His blue eyes narrowed as his lips curled into a sneer. “Just because it isn't your way doesn't mean it's the wrong way! You may have this rule about not killing a man who rapes four year olds, you may flinch at the idea of putting a bullet into the head of a serial killer clown who has the lives of thousands on his hands, but I DON'T!”

“Ever since Damian has come to live with me, I have done everything in my power to teach him the value of life. To teach him that his mother and grandfather's way is wrong! Yet here you sit allowing him to watch a movie that not only idolizes murderers but makes it seem comedic!” Bruce shouted in return, his face bright red with rage.

“THE VALUE OF LIFE?” Jason sputtered, his temper flaring to meet his father's. “You are teaching him to value the life of murderers, rapists and monsters above the lives of their victims! By letting men like the Joker live, you teach Damian that a four year old boy and his mother matter less than the man who triggered the bomb in their taxi cab! No wonder the little demon has no value for anyone other than himself and a bunch of animals! How can he look at a young family and see their lives as precious when the only thing you have taught him is that they are collateral damage to madmen whose lives he must value over theirs? You are teaching him no better than Talia or Ra's.” 

Damian took a step back as he watched Todd argue with his father. Both men were so angry they were practically trembling, their faces red and their own shades of blue eyes flashing dangerously. It wasn't that Damian cared for Todd, but there was some truth to his words. Damian frowned as he gently took his father's hand into his own.

“Father,” He spoke the word carefully and waited until they were both looking at him. “Father, Todd may not be right, but he isn't wrong either. I understand that you are trying to teach me not to kill and to have a moral code that is as strong as you are, but perhaps your way of seeing things is not the only way. While Todd is a ruthless Neanderthal, you can't deny that he has a point.”

“Killing doesn't just stop with one, it's a power trip, it's corrupting and it makes you no better than those you execute.” Bruce countered, trying to stay calm.

“The Hell it doesn't make me better than them! Tell that to the parents of a serial killer's NEXT victim.” Jason snarled. “You go and talk with every single victim of The Joker, to their family and explain to them why valuing his life is more important than valuing the INNOCENT lives of their loved ones! I guarantee that they will find me much better than The Joker, even if I tortured him for months on end. This mickey mouse bullshit about being no better than the criminals I hunt is just that. Bull shit.

“Who are you to call Clark a boy scout? Even he has killed when necessary. Sure it tore him up but he was willing to dirty his fucking hands to protect the innocent. Everytime you and Supes get together I hear you insult him. You call him Boy Scout as if you were so much more hardcore than him and yet from where I am standing, you are the real Boy Scout.”

“How dare you compare Kent to Father. He is ten times the man that Kent is.” Damian hissed at Jason, not appreciating the insult to his father.

“Well yeah, he's an alien, Damian. Everyone is at least ten times the man Clark is.” Jason rolled his eyes.

“Very clever, Todd.” The baby bat's voice dripped with sarcasm as he glared at his older brother.

“Jason, I know what it's like to decide that killing is the only way to make the scourge of this city pay. I know what it's like to want death for the lives of those you love...

“No, Bruce, see that's where you are wrong. This isn't about vengeance for me, like it is for you. Sure at one time,that may have been my goal.” Jason interrupted. “I wanted to know that you loved me enough that you would never let the Joker live to regret his choice to take me from you and also prevent him for doing so in the future. I admit it fully, that's what I had wanted.

“But now...Now it's different. Despite what you all think of me, I have learned something from my own homicidal rage. I don't kill mob bosses because they killed, tortured or hurt innocent people, it's not an act of vengeance. It's to prevent it from ever happening again, it's to give justice to those who will always somehow side step the law or even manipulate it to make themselves appear to be the victims.

“Bruce Wayne, you may not like my code. If you think it's the same as it was, you probably have a good reason, but I have changed. I don't kill anyone who gets in my way, I don't kill EVERY criminal. They have to meet a certain criteria. Murderers, child rapists, serial killers, serial rapists, shit like that.” Jason tried to explain. “And yeah there is a law against what I do, but there is a law against what you do to. Your crimes are no less than mine. You are every bit a criminal as I am. What is that you used to tell me? 'What we do, may be deemed wrong by those who make laws, but it is deemed right by every life we save from whatever tragedy they were about to suffer or endure'. With all due respect Dad; What I do may be deemed wrong by you and my brothers, but it is deemed right by every life I save and prevent from enduring or suffering a tragedy at the hands of serial mad men.”

Damien blinked in disbelief as his father seemed speechless. The two men still stood facing one another, neither seeming to notice that Dick had joined Damien, watching with just as much concern and shock as the youngest of Bruce's boys. It wasn't so much that the two men were arguing or even what they were arguing about, it was more the fact that it hadn't escalated into a physical confrontation between the two as it always had in the past. That they were actually talking, even if it was with anger and heated volume, was almost miraculous given the short tempers of each man.

While he stared Bruce couldn't help but smile inwardly. He still believed his second oldest was wrong. Completely wrong, but it was heartwarming and comforting to see that passion alive in Jason's eyes. His son believed he was doing the right thing and for once it was for the right reasons, though again, still wrong. When Jason had returned he had been the same passionate boy, but that was brought on by his pain, not by his conviction.

“You have evaded the point completely, Jason so just let me reiterate. That movie will not ever be played again in my home. Damien,” His steel blue eyes moved to his youngest as he was clearly addressing him as well. “will not watch that movie until he is of age and again, never in my home.”

Feeling a little lost, Dick looked to Damien for an answer. The boy waited until his father looked back to Jason before he looked toward the DVD case that was still laying on the couch. Dick followed the boy's eyes and then grimaced when he saw the movie that Jason had loved as a young teenager. Now it all made sense.

“Do I make myself clear Jason? Get that movie out of my home and don't you hide it back under that floor board.” Bruce warned before he stepped out of the theater room. He paused, however as he looked back. “I will have Alfred bring you some Tylenol and water, I'd suggest getting off that foot before you do more damage to it.”

“I can't believe you were watching that here!” Dick exclaimed as soon as their father was out of earshot. “What the Hell were you thinking, Jaybird?”

Jason smiled. “The kid didn't want to watch Pride & Prejudice and I figured he needed to see things from another perspective.”

“How far did you get through the movie?” Dick asked in a whisper.

“Auto-play feature. The movie had started over and we were to lazy to get up and change it.” Jason grinned smugly. “The boy saw the whole thing.”

Damien smirked as he looked to the older boys. “It was immature and completely ludicrous. I am not surprised that Todd admired such characters and I see wholly where he got his foul language from. The acting during certain scenes was overdone and poor.”

Ruffling a protesting baby bat's hair, Jason chuckled. “Well, if any good came out of this, I think it's that Dad got just a little bit closer to understanding me.”

“As if anyone could understand a demented being like you, Todd.” Damien shot.

 


	2. Who's The Boss

Bruce sat quietly in the dining room, his place at the head of the table as he read over The Gotham Times. He was very aware of the silence, the lack of his perpetually arguing sons and their loud and often cruel insults to one another. He looked over his paper with his steel blue eyes. Four empty chairs stared back. He checked his watch; it was five after seven.

Since Jason's return to the mansion, the boys were always at the table by seven. It was something Alfred had insisted upon. He warned them immediately that unless something drastic took place, he would not be making five separate meals at different times. If they were going to eat dinner, they were to be sitting at the table at seven o' clock and the meal would be presented at seven fifteen. The meal would be cleared at seven fifty and leftovers placed in the refrigerator. If they missed the evening meal, they could heat it up themselves in the microwave.

_Ten more minutes._ He thought to himself as brought the ends of his paper together and opened it to the next page. Something told him he really should worry about why his four sons weren't at the table. Damian and Tim had learned the hard way that if they weren't at the table on time, Jason would help himself to either of their plates and after only a day or two of that, not to be out done, Dick followed suit. So knowing that all four boys weren't present was actually beginning to worry him. 

With a frustrated sigh, Bruce set his paper down on the table and began his search of the mansion. The first place he checked was the theater room, nothing. He went next to the game room where they kept a pool table, poker table, dart board, and a craps table; again nothing. Next he searched all their bedrooms: four times he was unable to find his sons. He rolled his eyes as he shook his head, the cave.  _Duh._

“Boys?” He called as he walked toward his large computer. He couldn't believe it; they weren't down there either.  _Where could they be? Better ask Alfred._

He traveled up the stairs quickly and found the old butler in the kitchen. “Alfred, have you seen the boys today?” 

Alfred looked up at him and blinked before answering as he gave him a rather confused and concerned look. “Why yes, Master Wayne. The four young masters are in the dining room eating their meal.”

Bruce's brow furrowed as he shook his head and rolled his eyes. Of course they were at the table. They probably arrived as soon as he had walked into the theater room. He made his way to the dining room, half fearing that Jason had already taken his meal. The boy was bigger and seemed to require a lot more food than his leaner, shorter brothers.

The moment Bruce entered the dining room he was accosted by thick flakes of glitter and colorful confetti. Dick and Tim shouted “Surprise!”, while Jason and Damian merely spoke the word. In the center of the table was a, well it appeared to be a bat? Honestly, Bruce couldn't tell what the two layer gray and black cake was supposed to be shaped as, but there were several candles, far more than the years he had lived, all lit and waiting to be blown out. Large yellow letters spelled out 'Happy Birthday Dad/Bruce/Whatever' and it was apparent that who ever had been in charge of the writing frosting had a lot of difficulty until a very nice cursive took over after the word 'Birthday'. He knew the neat hand writing belonged to Jason.

“Told you being late for dinner would get him to search for us. Pay up, Jason.” Tim demanded as he held a hand out expectantly to his older brother.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Jason smirked as he handed over a ten dollar bill.

“Todd, isn't that the ten dollars you took from Drake's wallet earlier this afternoon?” Damian grinned wickedly.

“Shut up shithead!” Jason snapped.

“Jason, language!” Bruce yelled.

“You did what?” Tim demanded as his own bright blue eyes narrowed on the taller, bigger, ravenette.

“The little prick is lying just to pick a fight between us!” Jason denied angrily. “Don't let him play you for a fool, Pretender!”

“Jase, don't call him that!” Dick growled.

“And watch your language!” Bruce added.

“Hey fuck you guys, I ain't getting ganged up on by Bats and Dickhead again!” Jason shook his head. “Bruce control your spawn, he's trying to start shit! Tim, that's not your ten dollar bill, it was mine!”

“Yeah, that's what he says when he takes your money. 'It's mine now'!” Damian laughed maniacally as he tried to mimic Jason. “Once a criminal always a criminal, right Todd?”

“Look you little fucker, I'm gonna-”

“ENOUGH.” Bruce didn't quite shout, but his raised voice immediately silenced the boys as they each took a seat. Jason crossed his arms over his chest angrily, Tim glared hatefully at both Jason and Damian while Dick looked to Bruce. “Thank you boys, for this birthday surprise.” Bruce smiled. He walked over to the cake thing and once he had the attention of all four he was able to blow them all out, though he did notice the Damian seemed a little eager to help if it became necessary.

“So how many candles are there?” Bruce asked but he had already done a quick count and sixty-seven just seemed a little mean.

“Well, it was all Jason's idea.” Tim informed him.

“What?” Jason demanded with a look of incredulity.

“Come on, Jaybird, you can admit it. It's not like Bruce will kick you out being crippled and all.” Dick grinned.

“Trying to blame me because you think I won't get into trouble with B just shows what a coward you really are, Dickie-Bird.” Jason rolled his teal eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Be careful, Grayson, if you hurt Todd's feelings he might run away again.” Damian smirked.

“Alright, boys, why don't we all just sit down and eat the meal Alfred no doubt spent a lot of time preparing and then we'll move on to the cake?”

Knowing Bruce's silence was not an invitation to pick up their argument where it had left off, the four black haired, blue eyed boys looked to their untouched plates. One of Bruce's many favorite meals had been prepared; an onion filled meatloaf, mashed potatoes with hot brown gravy and steamed green beans and asparagus. They had been waiting for him to sit down before they dug into the home cooked meal.

“This looks amazing!” Dick smiled.

“A turd would look amazing to you Golden Boy.” Jason snickered.

“Really, Jason? A turd?” Dick sneered in disgust.

Bruce was just about to take a bite when the word 'turd' got thrown across the table, twice. He set his fork down and pinned Jason with one of his most threatening bat-glares. “Are we really going to bring that kind of toilet humor to the dinner table?”

“Oh, uh...no. Sorry, Bruce.” Jason grimaced. Even he could admit that was kind of a gross thing to say while trying to eat.

Turning to Dick, Bruce used the glare on his oldest. “And are we really going to repeat that kind of wording at the dinner table, Dick?”

“No, I am sorry. It won't happen again.” Dick promised as he immediately looked down, a little embarrassed at his behavior.

“Can we eat now, or do Todd and Grayson wish to frighten off our appetites further?” Damian asked pompously.

“Just shut up and eat, Demon Brat.” Tim snapped.

“All of you just shut up and eat.” Bruce growled, appearing rather angry. He couldn't let his sons know that he was secretly amused by their constant bickering, that it showcased their wide array of personalities and reminded him of why he loved each of them. If they knew that, they'd eat him alive.

The four young men quickly quieted down as they started to eat. Bruce felt like the silence was a little unnerving and yet he wasn't about to coax them into their arguments again. He really did enjoy Alfred's cooking and it was very nice having his sons surrounding him as well. He took a bite of his mashed potatoes as a shiver went up his spine. His blue eyes immediately narrowed on Damian as he saw the boy launch a spoonful of potatoes at Tim.

Tim's pale blue eyes widened in surprise as the glop landed directly on his left eye and cheek bone. He blinked a few times as Jason chuckled openly, while Dick tried to hide his smile. Damian on the other hand grinned widely, challenging him to return the attack. At first, Bruce was sure that Tim would simply wipe away the potatoes and ignore his youngest brother, until of course a second spoonful landed on his chin.

“Jason!” Bruce shouted.

“Damian started it.” Jason shrugged. “Tiny Tim over there looked like he still wasn't sure what happened. I just wanted to make it clear.”

“That's it!” Tim shouted as he stood, knocking his chair backward so that it tumbled to the floor with a loud clatter. He picked up two handfuls of his potatoes and flung them at Jason and Damian.

Before Bruce had a chance to say another word, food was flung with excessive force from all four sons at one another. His steely blue eyes widened in surprise as Damian flung himself across the table to tackle Tim, too bad Jason had other plans for the thirteen-year-old. Jason slammed the boy back down into the table with a hearty laugh. This abruptly ended when Dick shoved a large handful of the bat cake into Jason's hair. At once, the food fight broke into a fight between Dick and Jason who were shoving, punching, biting and kicking at each other while Damian pounced onto Jason's back. Tim however grabbed hold of Damian's shirt collar and started strangling him while the younger boy's legs wrapped tightly around Jason's torso as he and Dick continued trading blows.

Standing silently, Bruce then walked to the doorway and shook his head. “Boys.” Nothing. “Boys!” He said a little more aggressively but to no avail. “BOYS!” Finally he had their attention and so he spoke very calmly and with a smile. “Wait until Alfred sees what you have done to his dining room.”

There was no mistaking the fear that crept over each boy's face as they instantly stilled. Dick was the first to run into the kitchen to grab cleaning supplies, followed quickly by Tim and Damian. Jason hobbled over to the table and started gathering what he could of the food and plopping it all back on to the plates they had originally been on. Once the other three returned the four boys cleaned as quickly and thoroughly as they could.

Bruce smirked. “Good luck with that, boys and thank you again for the birthday meal.”

* * *

 

Sitting in his study Bruce looked over several emails from some business contacts. He was at his desk, trying to concentrate on stocks, data reports and things of extreme importance to Wayne Enterprises but his thoughts were distracting. He kept looking over at the individual pictures of his boys, well three anyhow. For a long time, Jason's had been too hurtful to see and so he had placed the picture in a drawer. When Jason returned, he just wasn't the same kid he had known before and it seemed insulting to the current Jason that he place the old photo on his desk. He wished he had another, but Jason was very good at avoiding cameras and he'd yet to get a decent one.

His boys were so different and yet so very much the same from their pictures. A four teen year-old Dick's easy smile looked up at him cheerily. The bright and positive outlook had kept Bruce's head straight for years, even when it had driven him to the point of madness. Most people believed that Dick looked up to Bruce and while that might be true, one thing most people didn't know was that Bruce looked up to Dick in many ways. Despite the boy sharing such a terrible past that was so close to his own, he had never lost sight of compassion, love and just finding a way to be happy. It was something Bruce often wished he had been able to find.

Tim's photo was next, it wasn't a professional photo like Dick's was. Tim's was of a fifteen-year old version of himself taken about a year or so ago during a chess match between him and Alfred. Bruce had been reading when he looked up and found the look on his face so endearing he had subtly taken the shot. Tim's pale blue eyes were focused in concentration, his mouth firmly shut and his shoulder hunched over. Even though his eyes were mostly comprised of his focused determination, the one thing that had caught Bruce's attention was the hint of uncertainty. To Bruce, this picture was the essence of Timothy Drake. Focused, determined, strong and yet secretly unsure of himself. Everyday his third oldest grew more self-assured but Bruce always worried about Tim and whether the boy really knew just how much he and the others cared about him.

Damian's picture was one he had taken when the boy first arrived. It had been take by Oracle when the boy was petting a cat. His face was gentle, serene and he seemed like he was a real ten year old who had never witness the violent death of another man. There was protective innocence in his dark blue eyes as he lovingly stroked his cat's ears. He need to get an updated picture of all four of his boys, but this one he would always have a hard time putting away or replacing. His son, flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood was a boy who teetered on the fence that separated good from evil. More so than Jason, Bruce feared that his youngest was doing things for the wrong reason. Perhaps Jason had been right about what he was teaching Damian. The boy didn't fight crime to protect people, he fought crime because it's what his father did.

A knock pulled him from his thoughts. “Come in.” Bruce called, his eyes quickly returning to the computer screen. Standing in the doorway were all four of his boys. “Did you get that mess cleaned up?”

“Yeah, but we would each like a one on one talk with you.” Dick smiled. “Mostly because we are all four highly competitive and had to make sure that our gifts weren't one-upped by each other.”

Bruce laughed and shook his head. “Alright. Who is going first?”

“We decided to go from youngest to oldest.” Tim answered. “So the Dem-er Damian is up first.”

 


	3. Gifts

Damian stuck his tongue out at his older brother and entered the study. He slammed the door shut on his three imposing brothers and walked forward. Bruce immediately noticed that he had showered, no doubt to get the food out of his thick, spiky black hair. He was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a black t-shirt. The small preteen held his arms behind his back as he approached him.

“Father, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I would say the specific one it is but everyone has refused to tell me just how old you are. I get the feeling it's because Todd and Drake don't actually know.” Damian started formally. “You are a good man and you should know that one day I will be everything you are and more.”

“I hope you are successful in your goals.” Bruce nodded. It was hard for him to maintain such formality, but he knew that if he pushed too much Damian would only withdraw from them further.

“There is no reason to hope, Father. I will be successful.” Damian assured him with a smugness that he definitely got from his no good grandfather. The expression softened however, when he looked up with large blue eyes. “You are...proud of me...aren't you, Father?”

Bruce kept the smile from forming across his lip as he nodded. The boy needed to see the grave sincerity on his face. Smiling would make him think he was laughing, making fun or lying to him. “Of course I am proud of you, Damian. You are learning a lot and you are opening yourself up to new ideals. You are strong of mind and spirit. Not many people can change or open their minds after the intensive training that you received with your mother and grandfather. I am very proud of you, Damian.”

“Thank you, Father.” Damian allowed a soft smile.

“Just, try to take it easy on Tim. He is my son, just like Dick, Jason and you.” Bruce added sternly. “You boys are brothers and you may find one day that you enjoy their company.”

“-tt-” Damian rolled his eyes. “Grayson makes sense to me, Father. He was a young boy who suffered a tragedy much like yours, but the other two? I truly don't understand why you insist on keeping them around.”

“Damian, my son if there is anything I can teach you, any one thing that could stick with you long after I am gone someday, I would want you to learn how to love and care for people for no other reason than that you love and care for them.” Bruce sighed before placing one of his hands on the boy's shoulder. “Maybe instead of resenting that I care for them, you could investigate why I care for them. Report back to me in two weeks with your findings. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Father.” Damian nodded, almost excited to prove to his father he could figure this puzzle out. He was just about to walk away when he blushed and brought his arms in front of him, holding a notebook sized wrapped box. “This is for you, Father. Happy Birthday.”

Bruce took the box and smiled at the wrapping job. He could see hints of Damian's frustration with the paper as there were a couple of rips and forced folds here and there. He untaped it first and then gently unwrapped it to find a thick black box. Knowing how Damian had been raised not to receive or give gifts, Bruce was fairly sure it was Dick who talked him into doing it. He lifted the lid and found a sketch pad with several pencils, both sketch and colored.

“You used to draw.” Damian said softly. “I thought you could do so again if you had enough free time.”

“Damian...” But when Bruce looked up the boy was already leaving the office and shutting the door quickly. He smiled to himself and set the book and it's pencils down on his desk.

“Bruce?” Tim's head poked in after a soft knock. A large shove knocked the boy fully inside the office. “Jason! Quit being an asshole!”

“Hurry it up Tiny Tim, we don't have all fucking day.” Jason growled as he slammed the door shut behind Tim. Bruce suspected this was to keep Tim from getting the last word or from allowing Bruce the opportunity to yell at him about his language.

“Come on in, Tim. What did you want to speak to me about?” Bruce smiled and waved his hand toward the chair on the other side of his desk.

Timothy was nearly eighteen, he was going to be starting college in the fall and more than anything, Bruce worried about Tim's insecurities. His family had been anything but good and kind to him and let's face it, he himself hadn't been the best father-figure to his boys. Tim seemed like a very well put together kid behind the facade of a genius, but Bruce saw through it. Thanks to the constant comments from Damian and now Jason, the boy felt like his place in the family wasn't cemented.

He held in his arms a large box and placed it down gently on the desk. “This is my gift to you. I hope you like it.” Tim smiled. “Happy Birthday.”

Removing the well wrapped paper, Bruce's eyes widened in surprise. It was an old marble and onyx chess set, but not just any chess set. He and his own father had played on this board at least twice a week. After his parents had died, Bruce had been so upset and angry one night that he had flung it across the room. He had always assumed that Alfred had picked up the pieces and thrown them away. Never did he think he would see this again.

“I didn't want to intrude on your past but when I was up in the attic I found it. I figured I could fix it. Alfred found me working on it one night and he told me what happened.” Tim shrugged. “Anyways, I just wanted you to have it back. I mean if you want it. I understand if it's not an appropriate gift.”

So many emotions flooded Bruce as he stared down at the chess set. He still missed his father horribly, but to have this back and in good condition made him feel like the man wasn't completely gone. He ran his hands over the board and looked up to Tim, hoping his eyes weren't as teary as they felt. “Tim this is, this is very kind of you. Thank you so much.” Bruce expressed with a cracking voice.

The young man looked at the floor with such a small smile of pride that Bruce felt his own pride swell for him. This was what he loved about Tim. His third son was so logical and cold on the outside but inwardly, he wanted to be loved, no different than Damian, Jason or Dick. Timothy Drake had a way of healing his broken heart time and time again without being as needy as Dick, as demanding as Damian or as critical as Jason.

“Would you care to play a game tonight before we go on patrol?” Bruce asked, the only way he could express what this meant to him.

Tim blushed a little and nodded. “Would love to.” He smiled and stood from his seat. “I better get going. We all know how irritable Jason gets when he is forced to wait for too long.”

“You know I noticed he has been calling you Tiny Tim more than Pretender or Replacement.” Bruce pointed out. “I wonder why?”

“It's definitely better than the latter two.” Tim agreed. “But I can't let him know that. If I do, he'll revert.”

Bruce nodded and watched as Tim walked out of his office. He could hear a bit of a scuffle and then Jason shout. “OUCH! Fucker, that's my cast you are kicking!”

“That's what you get for trying to trip me!” Tim laughed.

“I swear to God I am going to beat you with my crutches!” Jason threatened.

“And you call him Tiny Tim?” Dick giggled.

“Fuck you both.” Jason growled. Bruce watched as Jason brought himself into the office on his crutches. He plopped down in the chair and threw down his crutches haphazardly. This was most likely to show just how much he hated being injured and in need of them. “So Happy Birthday, B.”

“Thank you Jason, I am glad that you are here to spend it with me.”

“Food fight and all?” Jason questioned with a challenging tone.

“Food fight and all.” Bruce confirmed. “You know, it's nice having you here. To see the four of you everyday and not have to wonder where you are or if you are safe.”

“All good things must come to an end.” Jason shrugged as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Look, B, it hasn't been a total nightmare to be here, but I think we both know that me coming home isn't a good idea. So let's just skip past that horrible conversation now. I am still a criminal and we can't share the same home when I am doing things you are so adamantly against.”

Bruce watched his second son carefully and nodded after a moment. “I suppose I can admit you are right. It would make coming home from patrol quite awkward.”

Jason laughed to himself as he smiled. “Can't you imagine it though? You guys spend six hours chasing my ass around the city for killing some fuck-head only to pick me up at dawn to go home?”

“It wouldn't really make sense would it.” Bruce gave a weak smile. He tilted his head and then shrugged. “But you are here now, aren't you?”

“Yeah, well, this is the first time you and I have talked civilly since I got here. I suppose you could call that progress.”

“From grunts and nods, to arguments and debates, to conversation.” Bruce nodded. “I'd say that is a lot of progress for us.”

With a sigh Jason pulled an envelope form his back pocket. “Don't get all weird or anything, I just figured maybe you would want it. If you don't, it's cool. You can throw it out.” Once again, Jason's teal eyes fell to the floor as he handed over a manilla envelope that was the size of an 8x10.

Bruce opened the top of it and carefully pulled out a 5x7 photograph of Jason looking dead on into a camera. It was very recent, his black hair was shaggy with the white streak pushed off to one side. His teal eyes were focused intently on whoever was taking the picture. He wasn't smiling in the picture but he wasn't frowning or glaring either. It was easily the most open and vulnerable he had seen his son since he had kidnapped the joker and given him the ultimatum to kill the clown or himself.

“I guess I never noticed that you don't actually have a picture of me on your desk.” Jason blushed, his eyes narrowing as he noted the pictures of his brothers and even one of Barbara and Alfred. “Probably was a bit too presumptuous.”

Taken aback as the boy stood, Bruce rose to his feet. “Jason, wait. You are getting upset and you have not given me the opportunity to explain.”

“Explain what?” Jason growled, his temper flaring. “I get it, alright? I am not your...It's not a big deal.” The boy pushed his anger and hurt aside, wrapping himself in cold apathy.

Bruce had made it around his desk and was holding both crutches in one hand while the other held the picture. “Your picture is here in this office, Jason. It's in my drawer.”

“B, don't worry about it.” Jason shook his head. “Just give me back my crutches.”

“No. I want you to see that I am telling you the truth.” Bruce shook his head. “Go ahead and take a look.”

Jason glared angrily but finally he rolled his eyes and hopped over to the desk and started looking through the drawers. He found a picture of himself in the top right drawer. It was of himself probably a few months before his death. The boy that looked up at him from behind the glass was smiling arrogantly, his teal eyes filled with mirth and a mischievous agenda.

“I never wanted anyone to think, but especially you, that I wanted the old you back. When you first died, Jason I couldn't look at anything of you. All I saw was my failure.”

“Yeah, I hear that all the time. I was your biggest failure.” Jason sneered as he contemplated smashing the frame and picture.

“No, that's not what I meant either. People have misunderstood me for years. I never said you were my greatest failure, I said my greatest failure was not saving you. Not figuratively, philosophically or metaphorically. I didn't save you. I had never, ever failed to protect someone I loved like that since my Mother and Father. It was devastating. Any picture of you drove me to madness, so I placed it in the drawer where you would always be close.”

Bruce spoke carefully and purposely as his son faced him in disbelief. “When you returned, I wanted to put the picture back, I wanted at first to take down the memorial but that didn't feel right either. I felt like if I put back that picture of you, that you or the others might think I missed the you that was still fifteen and that it would be insulting to you. When it came to the memorial, I realized removing it changed nothing. You still died, you still died because of me and I never wanted to down play your death or forget my greatest failure. I didn't want anyone else to forget it either, to forget that we are not gods. We are humans and mistakes can and will cost us our lives or those of our loved ones.”

“I guess when you put it like that...” Jason mumbled as he stared down at the floor.

“Jason, I wish with every fiber of my being that I had saved you. Not because I don't like who you are now, or because I think you are a villain and it all would have been different if I had. I wish that I hadn't failed you because then you wouldn't have all this pain weighing you down. You wouldn't have had to live through what you had when you woke up in that coffin and I never would have had to lose you.” Bruce looked to the picture in his hand and smiled. “I was actually just thinking that I needed to find some way of getting an updated picture of you.”

Now Jason really looked uncomfortable. “Then I guess you can keep the picture if you want.” He shook his head. “You know I...I don't know how to be normal any more, Bruce. Not that I ever was, but now? I want to be a part of this fucked up thing you and Dick insist on calling a family but how do I ever fit in?”

“By trying, Son.” Bruce answered simply.

“Yeah, I guess.” Jason sighed. “I need to get out of here. All this sentimentality is starting to make me ill and you still have Dickie-Bird left.”

Reluctantly Bruce handed the crutches over to his son. “Thank you for the picture, Son.”

“Happy Birthday, Dad.” Jason mumbled before he quickly, well as quickly as one can with crutches, left his office. “Don't touch me, Dickhead!”

“Aw, JayBird, look at you all red and teary eyed!” Dick teased from behind the slightly open office door. “Don't worry, your secret is safe with me and Bruce.”

“Fuck off!” Jason shouted before Bruce heard the injured boy head toward his own bedroom.

Dick sauntered into the office and smiled at him full force. If Bruce hadn't known better, he would think Dick had been Apollo the Sun God's son. He didn't just smile, he beamed a light of hope and optimism at anyone caught in sight of it. That's why when Dick was in trouble, hurt or depressed it shook Bruce to his core. It had to be a truly terrible thing to bring his oldest down.

“Hello, Dick.” Bruce smiled.

“Happy Birthday, B.” Dick handed over a sloppily wrapped gift. “It kind of goes along the same theme as Jason's but I figured you needed it.”

Bruce's brow furrowed as he opened the gift. It was a framed picture of Bruce, the boys and Alfred from earlier this evening. It looked like the picture was taken from the other end of the empty table. Alfred was standing in the door way smiling as he looked over the scene, a blissful expression on his face. Bruce was sitting at the head of the table with a combined look of annoyance and acceptance. Damian sat beside Bruce to his left, arms crossed as he glared menacingly at Tim who was sitting diagonally across from him. Dick who sat to Bruce's right smiled as he looked to Jason who had been sitting beside Damian. Jason was flipping Tim and Dick off with his usual smug smile. Finally, Tim was looking to Jason with an unamused expression.

“How did you?”

“I placed one of those neat toys next to your cake and had Oracle snap a photo as soon as the moment was right. She said it was an easy pick out of all the pictures she snapped because everyone was constantly moving in the others.” Dick shrugged. “I like this one a lot. Shows all of us exactly as we are when we are just being us.”

Bruce nodded as he put an arm around Dick's shoulder. “Yes, it does. Thank you. This has been a wonderful birthday.”

“You deserved it. I was just glad Jason was already here and I didn't have to go drug his ass to get him back here.” Dick smiled.

“So, do the boys really not know how old I am?” Bruce asked with a laugh.

“Like I would ever tell them. You are who you are and I think the mystery is good for them. Besides, if they knew you were only-

“Eh, I don't need to be reminded as to how old I am.” Bruce held up a hand, silencing his oldest.

“You know, I will always miss and love my mother and father, but I wouldn't trade you for even one night of having them back, Dad.” Dick said softly. “You and I have always had our differences and our fights, but without you, I have no idea where I would be now.”

“That means a lot to hear you say that, Dick.” The two men embraced, Dick tucked under his arms as he leaned his head against his father's chest.

One thing Bruce had always seen in his oldest was the need to express love, concern and pain with physical touch. He was the only one of his boys who had ever wanted to be hugged or held when his day just sucked. Normally Bruce preferred the hands off approach but after tonight and the little talks with each of his sons, he was grateful to have such a loving and compassionate son to help ease him down from such gravity.

“I'll leave you to your work. You probably have a lot of work to do before we all go out on patrol.” Dick said as he released the larger man from him his hold.

“See you boys in the cave.” Bruce nodded. “Oh and Dick, have Alfred check in on Jason, he keeps putting all his weight on that foot.”

“I think he is trying to break it again so he doesn’t have to go back to that hell-hole.” Dick frowned.

“Don't worry, Dick. I am not letting him go again.” Bruce promised. “You have my word. I will not let this family fall apart, ever again.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys liked this story, or maybe even want to read something better than this one go check out Gwydionx's Breaking and Entering! It's a brilliant story written by a brilliant writer. Gwydionx was also kind enough to make her story related to this one so the link should be just under the note!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Breaking and Entering](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7860649) by [gwydionx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwydionx/pseuds/gwydionx)




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